


Sister Mary's School for Wayward Girls

by ramblingsofamadnb



Series: HarleyIvyweek2016 [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, And it brings them together, Friends to Lovers, Harley and Ivy have a mutual hatred for the Joker, idk how to decribe it, kind of, the Joker is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingsofamadnb/pseuds/ramblingsofamadnb
Summary: HarleyIvyweek day 2: Alternate UniverseSister Mary's is a state of the art gym with only one rule: you break it, you buy it. And after her most recent argument with the Joker, Harley knows she'll be using that rule.Ivy's just there to help.





	Sister Mary's School for Wayward Girls

Most days, Harley is excited to go to Sister Mary’s school for wayward girls. Today is not one of those days.

The place is a bit of a misnomer. Far from being a reconstructive school for tomboys, it’s a haven for them; a state of the art gym with only one rule: you break it, you buy it.

On this particular day, Harley knows she’ll be using that rule quite a lot. Fortunately, Sister Mary has just restocked the supply of punching bags, so Harley’s in business.

She gives a quick wink at Sister Sarah, the nine-year-old girl who guards the entrance, and heads back to the changing room. Shucking her sopping clothes to the floor (it is Gotham after all), she stretches. She tosses her clothes in an empty locker and returns to the gym.

Sister Mary’s is impressive, to say the least. At first glance, it may not look like much, but once you walk through the sprawling machines, weights, and boxing floors, you’ll begin to wonder how it’s even possible to fit everything in such a small space (hint: it might be illegal). Oak beams surround the gym, holding up the late-night poker room above, and adding to the cross of intimidating and homely aura that the place exudes.

But there’s no time for marveling on what is. For now, Harley is ready to spend the rest of her day bemoaning what isn’t. She wraps her hands and steps up to the punching bag.

There’s no particular grace to the way Harley approaches the art of the punching bag, but it gets the job done. And it’s entirely hers.

BAM—the sound of her fists hitting worn fabric—DZZ—the bag’s chain moving with the force. BAMM—dzz—BAM—dzz—BAM—BANG!

“Jesus,” says a voice. “What did the poor punching bag ever do to you?”

“Hey to you too Ivy,” Harley mutters, but it’s hard to stay annoyed as Ivy comes around the corner.

Maybe Harley’s a hopeless romantic, but she can’t help but stifle a gasp every time she sees Ivy. Despite what she says, she’s drop dead gorgeous.

Today, she’s wearing a black and green sports bra with matching shorts that compliment her chlorophyll infused skin. Her auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and her face is void of makeup, as per usual. She arches an eyebrow at the bag, which now sits on the floor.

“You think we should give it a funeral?” She asks.

Harley snorts. “Only if we bury it in the trash.”

Ivy looks up. “Bad day?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Boyfriend still being a bitch?”

“Mmhm.”

“Wanna break a few more of these things?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Ivy picks up a purple punching bag—Mr. J’s color—and hangs it on the hook.

“Let’s see what you can do, sister.”

They fall into a pattern—Harley attacks, Ivy gives her encouragement and punching bags. BAM-dzz. BAM-dzzz, over and over. It’s simple.

BANG!

The last punching bag falls to the ground, and Harley goes with it. Ivy moves to sit next to her.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks.

Harley shrugs. “I dunno. It’s… well, it doesn’t matter.”

Ivy looks at her. “Harley.”

“Yeah?”

“C’mon. This isn’t like you. What’s up?”

She sighs. “It’s Mistah J.”

“’Course it is.”

“Ives.”

“What?” She asks, indignantly. “The guy’s a douche, Harl. It’s not unreasonable.”

Harley turns her eyes back to the ceiling. “He keeps acting how like nothing’s happened. Like we didn’t break up, like he didn’t have that little fling—"

“Like he didn’t beat you?”

Harley flinches slightly. “It wasn’t—"

“Bullshit.”

Harley keeps quiet.

“You could report him, you know.”

She snorts. “Like that would do anything.”

“Well, it’s better than doing nothing!” Ivy exclaims. “Harley, I’m sick of watching you let him tread all over you. You’ve got to DO something!”

“Like what?”

Ivy raises her eyebrows. “You really want my opinion?”

“What else have I got?”

“Dump him.”

Harley thinks for a moment.

“I could, couldn’t I?”

Ivy closes her eyes. “I’ve been telling you that for years, Harl.”

“Have to put myself back on the market though,” she muses.

Ivy’s eyes fly open. “Fuck, no!”

“What I’m not allowed to—"

“Harley, listen to me. You’re not an object, okay? No one is buying you, or picking you up just for your looks. You wanna date someone else? I’m not complaining. But for the love of God, at least let it start out on even ground.”

Harley frowns and pushes herself into a seated position. “Never realized you cared so much Red,” she says.

“I’ve always cared, Harley.”

Harley shifts slightly. “You really think I should just dump him?”

“Harley, you’re better than the Joker. You’re smarter and braver, more committed than anyone I know. You’re beautiful and persistent and spunky and a great fighter. ‘Mistah J’ doesn’t deserve you.”

Harley meets Ivy’s eyes. “Ives…”

Ivy blushes. “I… may have said too much—"

“Ivy, do you really feel like that?”

Harley intertwines her fingers with her friend’s. Ivy glances down at them.

“I always have, Harley,” she says softly. “I was just waiting for you to realize it.”

There’s a silence.

Harley speaks up. “Plans on Friday night?”

“Haven’t got any.”

“Iceberg lounge, 6 o’clock? I’ll pick you up.”

Ivy looks up, a small grin on her face. “Sounds like a plan to me,” she hesitates slightly. “But Harl?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to take this too fast, okay? I mean, you technically haven’t even broken up with the Joker yet, and I don’t want anything to get too…”

Harley nods. “Out of control?”

“Yeah.”

She’s quiet for another moment. “To be fair, though, it’s been a long time since Mista—since Joker and I were really dating.”

“God, I wish you hadn’t just realized that.”

Harley chuckles. “Better late than never, right?”

Ivy shakes her head. “I guess so.”

Another silence, but it’s happier somehow.

“Ready to go?” Asks Harley finally.

“As I’ll ever be."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If there are any grammatical errors, please let me know.


End file.
